I’m sure there are many things about Guam that I’m not remembering right now. I’ll come back to them when I think of them. For now I’ll cover what I have on my list.
At some time during 1951 the company finished erecting new housing at Camp 1, and we moved there. I don’t remember much about the new house. It had vertical walls like the Butler buildings in Camp 2, and I’m fairly sure it was made of metal. The one thing I do remember is that in addition to a regular refrigerator the company provided what we called a reefer, a double-sized refrigerator without a freezer compartment. Why I remember that I don’t know.
Camp 1 was on the west side of the island, somewhere near where the Builder’s Club was. Stanley Brown’s family moved about the same time to a private home near the camp. I rode there on my bike once in a while. One time some local kids were out with their dog. It came up behind me while I was riding by and bit me on the heel. That was the first time a dog had ever bitten me. It wasn’t a big deal, but for some reason I remember it.
I also remember a kapok tree on the route. It was the biggest (real) tree I had seen on Guam. It had been so long since I had had a tree climbing fix that I had to climb it. I picked some of the pods and examined them. They were full of white cotton-like fiber, which now makes me wonder if they are related to cottonwood.
I became a Boy Scout while I was on Guam. I got my first taste of camping out while I was in the troop. There was a stream a few miles east of Apra Heights north of what is now route 17. At one point it widened into a small pond, smaller than the swimming hole at Camp 2 but large enough to swim around in. My first camp out was there. The weather on Guam was so mild that my camping gear consisted of an oil-cloth table cloth and a bed sheet. My breakfast consisted of eggs and fried spam. Don’t laugh. It was actually good.
The navy ran a snack bar called the Canteen somewhere around Apra Harbor. The whole family was out for a drive one Sunday, and Dad had elected to not wear a shirt. Who needed one, right? But then he ran out of cigarettes. He pulled up at the Canteen and because of not having a shirt recruited me to go in and buy him some cigarettes. First of all, as I mentioned earlier, back then I was pretty straight arrow, and I was sure I wasn’t supposed to buy cigarettes. I tried to talk Dad out of it but to no avail. Eventually, I went inside. I told the clerk the situation as it really was, and, of course, he turned me down. I suspect he thought I was a kid trying to get myself some cigarettes and had come up with the most unique story he had heard.
Sometime while we were on Guam I got a snorkel and began to try to use it for surface diving. I believe it was at the Builders’ Club that I dove into a coral branch. It poked me in the chest, and a tiny piece broke off. As far as I know that piece is still circulating in my body — at least that was the old-wives’ tale I was told about coral. Of course the branch was dead, and being a calcium compound, it has more likely been absorbed. I carried the scar for a long time but can’t even find it now.
Dad was an estimator while we were there. One of the projects he had a part in was building the dam that now hold the Fena Valley Reservoir. We drove up there at least once to see the progress. There was a cave near the dam that an underground stream came out of. I suspect that cave is under water now but it was interesting at the time. We tried to get a close look, but it was a hive for mosquitos. Patty Cook was with us and she and one of us (I say Richard. He says it was me) were covered with mosquitos and bites. I mean really covered.
We took more than one trip to the South End of the island. We went by Talafofo Bay each time. We’d stop at an overlook and take in the view. At that time there was a Japanese ship, the Aratama Maru, sunken near the entrance to the bay. Her masts and the wheel house were above the high tide mark so we could always see her, and I always wondered what her story was. There is now a monument with a picture of her (the wreck has been removed from the bay) and some kind of description (Unfortunately the photo that Google has is too fuzzy to read the details, but other sources say she was abandoned by her crew when a torpedo from an American warship struck her amidships and ignited her cargo of gasoline. She drifted for seven days before coming to rest on a shallow shelf in Talafofo Bay).
Dad had a game he would play while we were there. The overlook had a steep drop. When one of us kids would get close to the edge, he’d come up behind and yank us back while shouting some kind of warning. Talk about getting your adrenalin pumping.
One time we stopped somewhere along the route, Talafofo I think, and paid for water buffalo rides. The two things I took away from that were that these big work beasts were surprisingly gentle – and their skin was incredibly loose. If you weren’t precisely on center, the skin would move so far you couldn’t stay on.
A narrow dirt road was the only way to get to the South End back then so we usually went as far as Inarajan or occasionally Umatac and then turned around to go back home. One time, however, we continued on from Umatac up the west coast to Agat and on to home. I notice one thing looking at recent photos. When we were there, all these villages were almost at the thatched hut stage, now they are surrounded by modern homes.
I’m sure there were other things about our stay on Guam I could talk about like Christmas without cold. However, this will have to do for now. I do remember that the whole time I was there I kept lamenting about not being home (the States). Now I’d like to go back and see how much it has changed.
We left Guam so that my fourteenth birthday took place onboard the ship (the USS General Anderson, I think). More about that next time.